Critical Commentary goes Here.

- DGD Davidson

Flash Sentry and Buck Withers duel to the death for Pirate Twilight's heart

Book 3, Chapter 2, pp. 47-49

With a snort of contempt, Buck tossed his head, and a length of cold steel clattered against the floor and slid to Flash’s feet.

Flash glanced down at it before returning his eyes to Buck’s face.  “What is this?”

“What does it look like, fool?” Buck snarled.  “A weapon.  A sword.  Pick it up and fight me, if you’re stallion enough.”

Flash’s lip curled into a sneer.  “I?  Stallion enough?  If you only knew, little pony, what I have—”

Buck spat on the marble floor.  “Do you claim great deeds, you puny, two-legged freak?  Am I to cower before you, a mighty hero from the worlds beyond?  Ha!  I see nothing before me but a sniveling churl, yet five months weaned from his wet-nurse.  You are, no doubt, one of those worthless sorts who are great heroes in the bedroom but not on the battlefield.”*

[*Footnote:  As fans of My Little Pony no doubt know, Equestria is a masculine, militaristic society that places great value on honor and skill at arms.  Thus, in order to seduce mares or fillies, stallions will often ply them with long, involved tales of martial triumphs.  Buck is here accusing Flash of embellishing or inventing his stories of combat.  According to Equestria’s elaborate honor code, any stallion who receives such an insult is to respond immediately with violence. —GMB]

Flash bent down, picked up the sword, and tested it in his hand.  It felt good; its weight was solid against his palm.  “And I see before me,” he said, “nothing but an obstacle, a nuisance to be smashed like an insect.  Do you want to know who I am, little pony?  I am Flash the Unmaker, Unraveler of Worlds.  Countless planets have fallen beneath my tread.  Countless nations have crumbled at my touch.  I have destroyed men, women, and children in my quest, and I can easily brush you aside as I might brush aside a fly.  Do you hear me?”  He slid his feet into the en garde position and pointed the tip of his blade at Buck’s chest.  “I am Flash Sentry, fool, and you will not deny me my wedding night.  Leave here now, and do not come back.”

Buck scoffed.  “I, turn tail and run?  I think not, puny human.”

At this, Twilight at last rose to her hooves.  With eyes half-lidded, she looked at Flash and said, “Your speech does you no credit, my lover.  You have unmade worlds, but would you leave a rival unvanquished?”

“He is beneath my contempt,” Flash replied, “and therefore unworthy that I should kill him.”

Twilight chuckled mirthlessly.  “You are in Equestria now, darling, where a stallion’s bravery and skill in the fight are paramount.  You have been challenged to a duel, and no lover of mine will turn his back on such a challenge:  much as I cherish you, I would see you dead rather than dishonored by shirking combat.”  She turned her back on him, but cast a sharp, sultry glance over her shoulder as she added, “If you wish to take me in your arms, you must do so as a conquering warrior—not as a coward.”

Twilight stepped to her brass chest and opened it, revealing the booty she had captured in her many raids.  She pulled forth a bright necklace of gold set with lapis lazuli, which she draped over her long and supple neck.  She adorned her legs with bangles and her hooves with bell boots of gold.  Into her ears she clipped earrings of silver and pearl, which she attached by a length of golden chain to another ring in her nose.  She painted her eyes with kohl, pulled a filmy and translucent veil across her face, and then, at last, brought forth an alabaster jar.  After snapping the jar’s neck, she poured its contents—olive oil beaten with cinnamon, cardamom, and myrrh—over her mane.  The scent of the perfume wafted throughout the chamber.

Now bedecked with jewels and dripping with both unguent and fecundity, Twilight mounted the steps of her pedestaled and petal-strewn couch, where she lowered herself amongst the down-filled pillows.  As she languidly wound her hooves in the silken sheets, she again gazed at Flash from half-lidded eyes.  Sliding her tongue across her lips, she husked, “The one of you who conquers the other shall likewise conquer my heart.  Delight me now with the strivings of your thewy limbs, and to the victor shall go the spoils.”

But Twilight’s hair was not the only thing in the room that was well oiled:  with a grunt, Flash ripped open his shirt to reveal his broad and muscular chest, which rippled and shimmered in the candlelight like the waves of a storm-tossed and moonlit sea.  He bowed his head toward Twilight and said, “Your Highness, since you wish it, it will be my honor to rid the world of this vermin.”

“And,” said Buck with a whinny, “it will be my honor to slay this misshapen creature who has so stained your virtue.”

Without further ado, but with deafening roars of rage, the two heroes fell upon each other and brought together their blades with a mighty clash that would have left lesser mortals senseless.  They struck and struck again, unmindful of their hurts, until the marble floor was beslicked with their blood, yet still they strove, neither giving an inch.

And as this he-man and this he-stallion pressed close, as their blades shone in the flickering light, and as their sinewy thighs bulged and pulsated with the strain, Twilight took a cup of dark wine in her pastern and sipped daintily.  Lowering the cup, she again slid her tongue across her full lips, and she whispered five words in her characteristically husky voice:

“This . . . is . . . so . . . totally . . . hawt.”